


Shield - Bonus Chapter 1.5

by playswithworms



Series: Protectobot Beginnings [14]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5257850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playswithworms/pseuds/playswithworms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some additional Protectobot puppy piles and Wheeljack ruminations.  After they are injured during their first battle on Cybertron, the Protectobots get to hang out and recover in the quarters of their older brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shield - Bonus Chapter 1.5

**Author's Note:**

> I think this can stand alone and not be too confusing, but it will probably make more sense if you've read the main fic: [Shield](http://archiveofourown.org/works/680575/chapters/1248178) Found some old outlined notes and decided to flesh them out!

Even walking the short distance from the makeshift medbay had exhausted them. Wheeljack waited, shifting Streetwise so he was more comfortably arranged over his shoulder, while Groove, Hot Spot, and Blades made their slow way to the door to the Aerialbot quarters. Trailbreaker walked patiently behind them with First Aid. Poor kiddos, they moved like they were a million vorns old, although even their injuries hadn’t dampened their enthusiasm and dogged determination to help. Moving them to the Aerialbot quarters would at least keep them from attempting to fix something or help other patients in the makeshift medbay every few breems, as well as keeping them under wraps a little bit longer, although their classified status had likely gone to pit the moment they’d formed Defensor. 

Ratchet had not been particularly happy about having the Protectobots out from under his optics, but all of their sparks were stable, even First Aid, and the remote monitoring system would alert him to the slightest change in their systems. What they needed was rest, and lots of it, and even Ratchet conceded they’d be likelier to get it elsewhere than in the constant chaos of new refugees and injured arriving and being evacuated. Now if only Wheeljack could get Ratchet to hide out in someone’s quarters and rest and recover himself, that would be an accomplishment!

“Wow, these are really the Aerialbot’s quarters?” Streetwise asked, as Wheeljack deposited him on the couch in the common room.

“Yep, sure is,” Wheeljack answered him, grinning at the way the Protectobots were staring around in awe at the cluttered quarters as if they were taking a tour of the Crystal City. The other three Protectobots clambered gratefully onto the couch with Streetwise, and Trailbreaker carefully settled First Aid in with them. 

“Thank you, Trailbreaker,” Wheeljack said.

“Sparklings? What sparklings?” Trailbreaker returned, as he gave First Aid a gentle pat. “I don’t know anything, didn’t see a thing,” he said, with a cheerful wink for the rest of the Protectobots, before he headed back to the temporary medbay. 

“How are you doin’, kiddo?” First Aid was most of the way to recharge already, tucked up between Streetwise and Blades, but he blinked and smiled groggily as Wheeljack checked him over. Wheeljack was cautiously pleased. Give the severity of his injuries, Aid was recovering remarkably well. He’d even been able to stand and walk around a few wobbly steps earlier, although the effort had clearly left him wiped out afterwards. Mentally…it was hard to say. He seemed to be mostly all there, although it was difficult to know for sure. He wasn’t talking, even through the gestalt bond according to his brothers, which was worrisome. Wheeljack had a corner of his processor working away on alternative methods of trying to communicate, in the event Aid’s auditory and optical sensory networks failed to reboot. He knew special ops had a secret language of hand signals, and with Aid’s medical sensory array in his hands apparently none the worse for wear, it should be possible to adapt something similar, glyphs by touch, Aid would be a natural…

“Will we still get to meet them? The Aerialbots?” Wheeljack focused his attention on Hot Spot, feeling a pang at the dim optics and weary slump to the normally indefatigable fire truck’s armor.

‘I don’t know, kiddo,” Wheeljack said, a frown of worry creasing his faceplates. “I hope you’re still here by the time they get back, but all our original plans have gone in the smelter.” The Aerialbots were up to something big, and covert, and that was all the information Wheeljack had. Being in their quarters was bringing back all kinds of memories, and he missed them even more. He could only pray that they all came back in one piece, his five crazy jets. 

Hot Spot nodded, with a mildly disappointed sigh, and Wheeljack gave him a sympathetic flash of his vocal indicators. He’d really been looking forward to getting the two gestalt commanders together at last; he had a feeling it would do Silverbolt just as much good as Hot Spot.

“Wheeljack, is there any way we can go look for First Aid’s datapads, back in our old quarters?” Blades asked. First Aid was tucked into his side, now fully in recharge. “They might still be ok.” 

“First Aid’s not going to be able to read them for...well, for awhile, Blades. None of you are up to something like that, anyway; I’m not sure we can even _get_ to your old quarters anymore.”

“We want to read them, Wheeljack,” Groove said, “so we can learn more about what happened to First Aid and if there’s anything else we can do to help him.”

“Ah, I see.” Wheeljack rubbed a hand along his chinplate thoughtfully. Ratchet had given Aid more than just the standard introductory medical texts; it was a fairly extensive database, knowledge that could do more harm than good without the medical training and guidance to back it up. “I’ll check with Ratchet first, see what I can do. Aid’s fully fueled and that dose of painkillers should last for at least another joor. When he wakes up you can do a few of those stretches for his arms and legs that Ratchet showed you, just be sure to take it slow and stop if it looks like it’s hurting him at all. Speaking of which, anyone else feel like they need another pain chip?” 

Everyone looked at Streetwise, and Wheeljack grinned a little, behind his face mask. That was one nice thing about treating gestalts - with everyone tuned in to each other, very little could get missed.

“My leg still hurts, just a little bit,” he admitted with a shrug. “It’s not that bad.”

“Hm. I think I’ll try a neural pulse, instead of another chip, if that’s the only thing?” Streetwise (and Hot Spot, Groove, and Blades) nodded confirmation, and Wheeljack accessed a panel on his hip articulation and delivered a numbing pulse. 

“That’s better. Thanks, Wheeljack,” Streetwise mumbled tiredly, and Hot Spot wrapped an arm around him and tugged him a little closer. 

“All right, anything else you need before I go?” Wheeljack stood and looked down at them, reluctant to leave. He’d at least been able to keep an optic on them in the temporary medbay, and even though he knew they’d be much more comfortable and get more rest here, he suddenly didn’t want to let them out of his sight. He’d come so close to losing them forever. “I’m sorry all the workstations are down, but I’m sure the Aerials wouldn’t mind if you borrowed some of their datapads, and I’m sure there’s a game console somewhere in here.” 

“We’re fine, Wheeljack,” Hot Spot said, smiling and blinking up at him, his optics dimming further. “Thank you.”

“Ratchet will be by later with some energon and to check up on you,” he said, stalling. “Comm me if you need anything at all.” 

“M’kay,” Hot Spot murmured, halfway to shutting down. 

Groove was watching Wheeljack, the only one of the five still mostly awake, his expression a little sad and worried. “You can go, it’s ok, Wheeljack. We really will be fine here.” 

“I know, kiddo, I know.” Wheeljack tried to put as much cheerful confidence in his voice as he could. “Ok. I’m going.” He reached over and knuckled Groove gently on the helm until the sparkling smiled his slow-blooming smile.

“Behave, you lot,” he warned as he backed away and opened the door. Groove giggled and snuggled in deeper in the pile of his recharging brothers. Not that they’d actually behaved the last time he’d left them alone in quarters like this, Wheeljack thought a little ruefully as the door slid shut behind him and started back towards the temporary medbay. On the other hand, if they had obeyed him and stayed put, they’d likely have ended up crushed beneath debris or deactivated when the base exploded, without Defensor to save the day. Not the first time this lot had surprised him, and he doubted it would be the last.

Don’t underestimate them, Wheeljack reminded himself. He kept that comforting thought close as he returned to everyone else who needed them right now. There was no where safe to send them anymore, not after this, and they were injured and not even a vorn old yet, but the day they didn’t come out on top singing would be the day Wheeljack invented non-exploding missiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out this amazing [ fanfic cover art for Shield by Laeona on Livejournal](http://laeona.livejournal.com/568.html)!! I totally printed it out and made my own little comic book :D


End file.
